


Crows in the Catacombs

by SabbyWrites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Cheating, Cocaine, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gangs, Graphic Description of Corpses, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Major Character Injury, Mental Instability, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Objectification, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Coercion, Suicide, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, Yandere/Dark, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:57:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabbyWrites/pseuds/SabbyWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sugawara Kōshi was never afraid of getting his hands dirty. Especially when it came to you. </p><p>Mafia/Mobster AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Good Days

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. What started out as a Dark!Suga request for my oneshot collection, 'A Study in Depravity', became this. It's going to be a mini-series, because I really don't have the time to commit to ANOTHER full-length series. 
> 
> Anyways. This is dark. I know it might not seem that bad from this chapter, but I just wanted to test the waters here. It's not going to be pretty. If you couldn't tell from the tags and the summary, this is a Mobster AU. I use the term lightly, because the Crows aren't really 'organized' well enough to really be a mob or mafia family, but the basic structure is that Daichi is the boss and everyone else is his little bitch. And Suga is head bitch. 
> 
> Be prepared for copious amounts of cocaine, dismemberments, and deaths. Also, your faves probably will die or have already died. And I made Daichi absolutely awful. 
> 
> Well then. Hope you guys enjoy. 
> 
> xoxo sabby

Things weren’t always like this. 

There was a time when Sugawara Kōshi was actually as innocent as he pretended to be, with a mind that was pure in thought and sound in sanity. The Good Days, as he liked to call them, where he didn’t have to worry about being called at four in the morning to hack up another body with a saw or hiding his stash of cocaine away from Hinata’s prying eyes. And although he’s no longer the go-to man for dismemberment, the stench of blood and entrails seems to follow him no matter where he goes or how many showers he’s taken. Daichi told him that he shouldn’t worry so much; he’s the right-hand-man for a reason, and he’s set for life with the way things are going. 

Suga tends to disagree. The ‘way things are going’ implies that the Crows have been raking in wealth and jobs like they used to back when Ukai was the Boss, when the mention of their family sent shivers down people’s spines. Nowadays there’s only enough of them to occupy a single house on the outskirts of Tokyo, property that Tanaka and Saeko inherited ‘conveniently’ around the time that Ukai died. It’s a nice place, undoubtedly, with a big enough garage to hold every car and a nice kitchen that Nishinoya always seems to be hanging out in, but it’s a smack in the face compared to what they used to have. 

Daichi thinks so too, but he manages to hide it well. ‘It’ll do for now.’ He always says, as if somehow things are going to eventually get better. Sugawara always agrees with him but they share a look afterwards, like two captains on a ship that is slowly sinking. The Crows have almost gone extinct, and if it isn’t in this generation then it will certainly happen with the next. 

 

“She’ll be back any minute.” Daichi says. He’s got one hand on a steaming mug of coffee and the other on his pistol, fingers stiffening at every small sound from outside the house. He has all the weariness in him that a Boss should have; the gray strands of hair even at a young age, the bags under his eyes, the slight jumping of his muscles as he comes down from a high. Sugawara watches him from the corner of his eyes, silent. He doesn’t answer, his mouth pressed into a thin line. 

He should be used to this by now. Should be used to the worry and the tragedy and the sacrifice, but he isn’t. He’s been the underboss for two years, a position that used to be a honor but now feels like a burden, and everyone can tell that he’s a little bit sick of it. Especially now that he’s past the point of ever being able to retire and settle down with a family of his own. This is his life now, and he wants nothing more than to leave it. Maybe that’s why he has such a fixation on you, the seductress that Daichi recruited two years ago; you were a breath of fresh air to the organization, a ray of light that Sugawara had thought he would never live to see. You made him hope, beyond all hope, that there was someone he could make a future with, someone he could escape with. 

He failed to recognize two issues with his train of thought. One was that, while Sugawara was the closest thing Daichi had to a friend anymore, he knew the Boss would not hesitate to put a bullet into the back of his head if he ever tried to leave. 

Two was that you happened to be fucking someone else. 

It’s the same ‘someone else’ that you’re always with; Kageyama Tobio, the newest and most skilled hitman the Crows have ever seen. A genius who could make any murder look like an accident, his work pristine compared to the grisly scenes that Sugawara always used to leave behind. He’s both a blessing and a curse; his addition to the family means that Sugawara was able to be promoted to Underboss, but his presence in your life is the bane of his existence. 

The two of you come speeding into the garage, the tires of your dark blue sedan squealing against the asphalt. Sugawara should frown, should berate the two of you for your recklessness, but instead he peels back the blackout curtains in the kitchen and stares, trying to make out your figure in the pale light of the moon. 

He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees you step out of the driver’s side visibly unharmed. The nights where you’re gone are particularly hard on him, filling his body with stress that not even a line of his favorite pastime can ease, and while he knows Kageyama wouldn’t just let you die out there, he still makes himself stay up every night until you’re safely home. 

“Piece of cake.” You whistle as you walk through the back door, Kageyama following behind you, glowering a little bit at the fact that he most likely had to watch you having sex with another man. Sugawara releases the curtains with horror, noticing now that you’re covered from scalp to toes in little flecks of blood. Kageyama has it worse— he always does— but Sugawara isn’t madly in love with him, so his concern for the hitman is minimal compared to what he feels for you. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, and he can see Daichi’s impassive face turn downwards, telling him without words that he’s not fond of how much Sugawara cares for you. Usually Sugawara would heed the silent warning but tonight he’s uneasy, something that always happens to him when he comes down from one of his highs. This is why Nishinoya prefers speedballs, he guesses; lower chance of having poor side effects cloud his judgement. 

You blink at him. “Yeah. Totally. Kags blew the guy’s brains out while he was on top of me. Kind of gave me a rush, to be honest.” You say, and Sugawara notices that your hands are, in fact, shaking with excitement.

He doesn’t know what makes him angrier. The fact that you’re so filled with affection for your partner or the knowledge that your job in the organization is to fuck information out of people before Kageyama steps in and gets to end their lives.

“Got you something, though.” You say, cheeky grin on your face as you shove your hand into the pocket of your windbreaker. No, not your windbreaker; Kageyama’s, actually, and if you weren’t smiling up at him in such a distracting way then he might have just pulled out his pistol and shot Kageyama in the chest. Why the _fuck_ are you wearing his clothes now? That’s the sort of thing that couples do, and last time he checked you and the hitman were only lovers—

His anger melts away like ice in the summer when you pull your hand back out and show him what’s in your palm. Small baggie. Can’t be more than a gram, but he still loves you even more for it. 

“Don’t tell Tanaka. He’ll be pissed I didn’t bring any back for him.” You say. You pat him on the shoulder and grin again, but the bliss of having you so close is short-lived because you turn back to Kageyama. “Let’s go get cleaned, up, Tobio.” 

Daichi and Sugawara watch as the hitman follows you up the stairs, face as impassive as ever. You’re going to go shower with him. Great.

Daichi lets out an aggravated sigh as soon as you’re out of earshot, leaving his mug of coffee on one of the side tables in favor of snatching Sugawara’s present from his hands. 

“Hey!” He protests when Daichi settles at the table, opening the baggie and tilting it so that the contents spill onto the mahogany surface. “That’s mine!”

“What’s yours is mine. What’s mine is also mine.” Daichi says. Sugawara frowns but he knows he can’t stay mad at the boss for long because the guy practically has him by the balls. 

Sugawara sits diagonal to him as Daichi pulls out his pocket knife and starts creating lines in the cocaine. Five, precisely, three for him and two for Suga. Won’t be enough to get him going again, but at least it’s _something_ to distract from the fact that he thinks he can hear you and Kageyama in the shower. A moan confirms it. He clenches his fists in his lap. 

“You need to let it go.” Daichi says as he rolls a crisp dollar bill tightly. “You’re getting soft over her, I can tell. You know how that’s going to end up.”

“But—”

“Shut up.” Daichi snorts his first line fast and hard, then tips his head back, wiggles his face a little bit, and tries to snort up the excess. Sugawara can see some of it sticking to the edge of his nostril. He doesn’t comment on it. “Hinata got all moon-faced over that Yachi girl, and now look at him. The guy practically _asks_ to get killed out there, with how suicidal he is.”

_That Yachi girl._ As if Yachi Hitoka hadn’t been part of the family for years before her death. Anybody else would question if Daichi was just pretending to be apathetic to the whole thing because he wanted to appear tough, but Sugawara knows better than anyone that the man in front of him really and truly did not give a shit about the expendable dirty-workers of the family.

He snorts his next two lines. He’s always been fast, Daichi; the type of person that could tear through your entire stash if you weren’t careful about hiding it. Sugawara watches him silently as he tilts his head back again and uses his finger to wiggle his nose. It’s incredibly unattractive. 

“I’m not going to end up like Hinata.” He finally says once Daichi hands him the rolled-up bill. 

“Why’s that?” Daichi doesn’t care, really, but at least with Sugawara he pretends. 

“She’s got Kageyama—”

“Who’s currently fucking her, by the sounds of it.”

“—to protect her. He’s not gonna let her die.”

“No?” Now it’s Daichi’s turn to watch as Sugawara makes quick work of the powder in front of him. The uncomfortable stinging sensation that used to accompany using cocaine has long since faded into something that Sugawara is used to. It used to be his drug of choice, back when they could afford it, and still is, though he rarely has the time to use some of his secret stash anymore. Today had been a special occasion.

Upstairs, in the shower, you finish. It’s a beautiful sound. Suga wants to hear it crooned in his ear one day, but for now he’ll settle on listening from afar, weighing the pros and cons of putting a bullet into Kageyama’s chest while he sleeps. 

Daichi seems to read the expression on his face with scary accuracy. “You’re not going to let her go, are you?”

Suga tips his head back and shuts his eyes. It’s been a few minutes; he can feel his brain starting to sputter back into hyperdrive, his thoughts blooming like flowers behind his eyelids. 

“No.” He says. He was right. It wasn’t enough cocaine to get him back to the level he was at earlier in the evening, but it’s better than nothing. The pipes in the walls squeak as the shower upstairs is turned off. He wishes, for what feels like the millionth time in his life, that he’s the one that gets to run his hands over your skin at the end of a long mission. Not Kageyama. 

“Well then.” Daichi’s voice drops a bit. His mind must be racing as well. “I’m not saying I’ll support you. But I am saying that I’ll look the other way if you decide that you want to try and get a piece of the action yourself.”

“Is this you giving me your blessing?”

“This is me telling you that you can’t come crying to me if Kageyama decides that he's not okay with people touching his things.” Daichi says, and Sugawara opens one of his eyes to watch as the Boss pushes his chair back and leaves. 

He knows it’s dangerous, he’s not dumb. But to Sugawara, you’re the human embodiment of the Good Days, and at this point he’s knows that he doesn’t care if you’re willing to accept his affections. 

You will eventually. You’ll have to.


	2. Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I figured it was time to update this story (along with others, though it's currently finals week at my school and I've been swamped with work), so here it is! The chapter is mostly just fluff, though it gives a little bit of backstory and sets us up for what will happen next. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> xoxo Sabby

Kageyama remembers the night that Yachi died with startling clarity. 

Three years ago. Firefight. She didn’t really stand a chance from the start, because she was always so reckless, but the feeling that washed over Kageyama when he realized that she’d been hit was still a shocked one. She was dead within minutes, almost completely cold by the time Kageyama and Hinata had finished off the opposing men. 

Hinata sniffled the whole ride home. Sat in the backseat with her head on his lap, trying in vain to keep the tears in, when Kageyama eventually got sick of it, looked in the rear-view mirror, and snapped something like ‘If you’re gonna cry, then do it before we get back to Daichi, dumbass.’ 

They dragged her body in the house at Hinata’s insistence, as if Nishinoya could perform some ritual to bring her back to life. Daichi took one look at her, face stone-cold as ever, then told them they had two options. Give her to Sugawara, who would dismember her and throw her into the bay by midnight, or find a way to burn the body. 

Hinata and Kageyama looked at each other. They weren’t really friends, not back then, and that night they came to their first agreement. She would not have a criminal’s funeral. 

They asked if they could bury her in the backyard. Daichi frowned, but complied. Maybe he knew then that Yachi’s death had broken Hinata and he would be able to use that against him later. Maybe this was the only act of kindness that Daichi was able to do. He told them that there were shovels in the garage somewhere. 

They spent hours out there. Dawn was just starting to break by the time the hole was large enough to keep her from getting dug up by some sort of animal. Kageyama had to be the one to lower the body in because Hinata was crying again, even though both of them knew that Daichi was still watching them from the window. They covered her. No coffin; she’s probably been swallowed whole by the earth at this point. 

Hinata stayed out there for a little longer. He’d always been a little more religious than Kageyama, so he’d started saying some sort of prayer that the hitman wasn’t interested in listening to. Instead, he made his way past Daichi and up into the shower, scrubbing at his skin until it was raw and pink, watching blood spatters and clumps of dirt swirl down the drain. 

The only reason Kageyama remembers this so clearly is because this is the only memory, in his array of grisly and gruesome ones, that still gives him nightmares. 

“Tobio.” He hears you say. Your arms wrap around him and he realizes that he must’ve been talking in his sleep again. You two have shared a bed long enough for you to know exactly what his nightmares sound like. 

He blinks his eyes open, taking a moment to adjust to the light of the room. It’s still dark, but the sky outside is a little too pale for it to be the middle of the night. It must be approaching dawn. He used to be shocked when he realized how early you usually woke up, but now all he feels is relief. 

“[Name].” He sighs and sits up in the bed. You’re still watching him with those concerned eyes of yours. He wants to tell you then; you’re the only reason he keeps doing this, the only reason he has to stay alive. He hates this life, hates everything about it, hates watching his friends die. Hates the drugs, hates the dirty money, hates how every time Hinata returns home from a slaughter he looks more and more vacant. But he can’t tell you, because if he does he knows that Daichi will use it against him. 

But you know. You can feel it in his gentle touch and the way that he presses a kiss to your forehead that he loves you. You love him too, and you tell him by nestling your face into the crook of his neck and placing a warm kiss there. He wraps his arms around you. 

“Hinata should be back soon.” He says. You hum, the sound buzzing against his throat. He can’t help it. He smiles a little bit. 

“Is that your way of saying that I’ll be seeing you less?” You ask. He shrugs. 

“Depends. Daichi might let you join us.”

“I might just stay home, thanks.” You reply. “I’m not sure how I feel about watching you two wallow in your sexual tension.”

He groans. “For the last time, [Name]—”

“Tobio, I’m joking.” You say, and he shuts up because he can see the pale disc of the sun slowly starting to rise. It filters through the leaves of the tree— the oak one that Yachi is buried under— and casts a warm glow on the room. Your skin seems to have a weird angelic sheen in the light. He kisses the top of your head again for good measure, just in case you’ve forgotten in the last few minutes how much he cares for you. 

Things will get better, he thinks. He made a mistake assuming that joining a group like the Crows would ever bring him happiness. He was good at killing, yes, but he never took pleasure in it like he knew Tanaka and Sugawara did. 

He looks down at you, curled into his embrace. Being here wasn’t all that bad, but if he had the choice he would take you and run. Far, far away to a place where you didn’t have to sleep with other men and he never had to touch a gun again. You could change your names, your life stories, and have a family. You could live behind a picket fence with a dog, have normal jobs, be friendly neighbors with others—

“I think we should go find Daichi and tell him what we learned last night. About the debt that Seijō owes us.” You say, referring to the information that your gained by sleeping with one of the Seijō underlings last night. It pissed him off, yes— he didn’t even wait for the guy to finish before shooting him through the head— but he’s long since come to terms that you’re just as trapped in your position as he is, and he knows that by the end of the day you’re still going to be in his arms, waking him up from nightmares and watching the sun rise over that oak tree with him. 

“In a few minutes.” He says, because he isn’t quite ready to let this moment end yet. 

You want to indulge him, honestly, but at that precise second, your stomach growls. He laughs and you snort, a little embarrassed at the sound, but you smile when he nudges you. 

“Go eat. I’ll be here when you’re done.” He says, and although it might not seem like much, his reassurance means the world.   
__

Sugawara never sleeps. 

That’s a lie. He does sleep, of course, but it always just feels like he’s suspended between reality and dreams. It’s been like this for a while now, since before he was promoted, and he assumes that it will be this way for the rest of his life. 

He used to be bitter about it. Used to hate watching the sun rise every morning. But he doesn’t anymore, and it’s due to the fact that you’re always the first one awake, and he’s privileged enough to see you bumble around the kitchen with an easy smile on your face. 

“G’morning.” You say when he walks in. You have some sort of weird emotion in your eye. Affection, maybe. He pretends that it’s directed at him, and restrains himself from pressing a kiss to your forehead in response. Even from his spot on the other side of the kitchen island he can smell Kageyama’s cologne all over you. It makes him a little nauseous. 

“Good morning.” He replies, busying himself with a quick scan through the refrigerator so that you don’t think he’s just there to watch you make coffee. He admires the curve of your calves when your turn your back to him, his amber eyes trailing up to take in the way the rest of your body looks when encased in one of your silky nightgowns. He drinks in the sight like he’s parched, because god knows he doesn’t get the chance to openly gawk at you often. 

“You use my gift already?” You say, digging through the cabinets to find some sugar packets. You used them every day, and so logic dictates that they should be easy to find, but Nishinoya has a habit of rearranging things. 

“Yes. Thank you, by the way.” He says, and then, as if to remind you that he’s the second most powerful person in the organization, he asks “what did you find out?”

He can tell by your bitter sigh that it’s not good news. “Seijō is broke, as expected. I’m assuming Daichi will want us to go on a raid or something to make up for the debt.”

“Probably.” Sugawara fumbles around with an apple when you turn back around, trying to cover up the fact that his eyes had been glued to the gentle slope of your shoulders. “Which isn’t a bad thing, necessarily. I’m sure Iwaizumi has some goods that he’s been holding out on.” 

“You think so?” Your words are nearly drowned out by the sound of the coffee maker humming to life. 

“Yeah. All Oikawa’s things, naturally, that he probably didn’t want to part with.”

You smile at him. It’s what you do when you have nothing else to say, but Sugawara acts like you’re doing it because looking at him makes you happy. 

He’s delusional and he knows it. But the pain of having you just out of his grasp is intoxicating, like the white-hot feeling of nails raking down his back. 

“Iwaizumi is a nice guy. I’ve dealt with him in the past; he fought tooth and nail to make sure Oikawa stayed alive.” You say after a lengthy pause, during which the coffee brewed and you grabbed two mugs. Pouring the brown liquid into them— not minding that a few drops sloshed onto the counter— you let out a small noise of disappointment. “Didn’t work, obviously, which sort of breaks my heart. He was the most loyal Underboss I’ve ever seen, and I’m sure it was hard for him to watch Oikawa bleed out.”

Sugawara should be offended by your words— after all, he’s pretty fucking loyal too, shouldn’t you be admiring him?— but he isn’t because at that moment you turn back to him, both mugs of coffee in your hands, and place one of them down on the island. He stares at it, a little dumbfounded. He assumed that you’d been making it for Kageyama. 

You seem to read his mind. “You’re always down here when I am. I figured you needed a little pick-me-up too.” And this time your smile _is_ directed at him, a fondness in your expression that almost overwhelms him. It’s nothing like the faces you make at Kageyama, but he’ll take what he can get. 

His hand curls around the mug. “You’re right.” He says, even though you’re the only pick-me-up that he’ll ever need.


	3. Canines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao guys I honestly have nothing more to say than this: Daichi is a douche in this AU. Get used to it. 
> 
> Also, like I said in the tags: Your faves will die or have already died. So. Yeah. 
> 
> Anyways, if you like this story, feel free to check out my other ones or visit me at my tumblr, sabbywrites.tumblr.com! <3
> 
> xoxo Sabby

Daichi Sawamura collects teeth. 

It’s a quirk that he seemed to inherit from Ukai, who used to have jar upon jar of them in his office. While Daichi’s collection is nowhere near as impressive— it’s contained in a single plastic bin on his desk— it’s still absolutely terrifying. There’s gold and silver ones, flat and sharp, yellowed and pearly white. They all look different, with unique chips and unusual sizes, but they all have one thing in common. 

Every single one of them belonged to a human being. Not only that, but ones that had been killed during ordered exterminations. 

This is what Daichi looks forward to when Hinata returns. The teeth are not only proof to him that Hinata had successfully infiltrated and disposed of an entire enemy family, but that his loyalty to Daichi is still unwavering. It shows him that Hinata is still capable of carrying out orders, of pulling teeth from corpses and dutifully bringing them back to him without question. 

“Inuoka Sō. Yamamoto Taketora. Shibayama Yūki.” Hinata slides three of the teeth across the mahogany table towards Daichi, who looks at them with slight interest. Everyone else is crowded behind him, morbid curiosity radiating off of them like a strange black aura. Daichi pays them no mind, his attention focused on the way Hinata’s fingers are twitching. He’s going through pretty bad withdrawal; Daichi will probably have to convince him to join the next raid by promising him some coke. The thought of having to coerce someone who should follow his orders without bribery does not please him. 

“Fukunaga Shōhei. Yaku Morisuke. Kai Nobuyuki.” Hinata pushes three more teeth forward. It’s incredible, really, how he can tell which tooth came from which person, but then again he’s always had an eye for detail. That and the fact that he had probably gotten close enough to every member of the Cats to recognize them. This is another thought that doesn’t make Daichi happy. 

There’s only two more left; a front tooth and a canine. Daichi stares expectantly, and Hinata wastes no time and showing them off as well. 

The front tooth is first. “Kozume Kenma.” 

It’s a little yellowed. A smoker, but then again every underboss tends to have more vices than the rest. Sugawara’s shaking hands and hollowed-out cheeks can attest to this. 

That leaves the canine. Hinata is a bit slower when sliding this one across the polished wood, most likely because he always takes an insane amount of pride in killing bosses. 

“Kuroo Tetsurō.”

The tooth is ridiculously sharp. Daichi knew of the guy when he was still alive; he always sharpened them. Maybe to be more intimidating. Maybe to fit the cat theme of the family a little bit better. Whatever it was, Daichi doesn’t care. He’s dead now. 

He can tell that everyone behind him is a little terrified. They always are, when they’re reminded of the fact that Hinata has singlehandedly taken out more people than Kageyama or Sugawara could ever dream of. Not because he is particularly skilled around a gun or has a long past of doing such tasks; it’s solely because of Hinata’s ability to blend in, to take on new identities and approach other families under the guise of joining their ranks. 

He’s a natural-born chameleon. His job is to befriend others and then slaughter them, bringing the proof and the power back to Daichi in a sort of half-assed attempt to bring the family to glory again. It hasn’t worked yet, and it probably never will, but Daichi takes comfort in the fact that it at least eliminates competition. 

He gathers each tooth in his calloused palm, looking at them clustered together before closing his hand. “You left one alive.” 

Hinata nods. The skin of his face seems to be stretched over his skull. He’s lost so much weight since Yachi died that it’s a wonder he hasn’t just wasted away. Daichi feels no guilt over it.

“Haiba Lev.” Hinata answers. “Newest recruit. No chance of retaliation. Wasn’t around on the night I decided to finish them off.”

Daichi muses this for a moment before nodding curtly. “You’re dismissed.”

Hinata stands immediately, probably so he can take a shower. His hair is a knotted mess, the orange roots showing through the brown dye he used to try and disguise his appearance. His lip was obviously split in the days prior to his return, and there’s a yellowing bruise under his left eye. Daichi knows for a fact that Hinata probably carried out his assignment days before he said he did. What he did in the time between then and his return to the house is a mystery, but it just drives home the fact that he might go rogue if Daichi doesn’t put more pressure on him. 

Nobody speaks until they hear the pipes in the walls creak to life as the shower is turned on. Tanaka slides into the chair next to Daichi’s, sharp eyes trained on his closed fist. 

“Can I see them?” He asks, licking his lips. Daichi shoots him a nasty look. 

“No.” 

“But—”

“I said no.” Daichi pushes his chair back and the family members behind him scatter, looking at each other with wide eyes. Daichi is in a foul mood tonight and none of them want to be on the receiving end of it. Sugawara is the only one who has both the authority and the guts to speak up. 

“Daichi, you should get some rest.” He says, even though it’s barely midday and there’s still so much left to do. Daichi knows that Sugawara will take care of it, so he nods at him and tightens his grip on the teeth as he brushes past all of his underlings, towards the basement where his cot is. 

It smells musty, but that’s to be expected. The house is old and there’s probably mold between the bricks. The scent of weed is, at this point, woven into every scrap of fabric down here. Daichi doesn’t notice these things actively, his mind on autopilot as he strides over to his desk and peels back the lid on his container of other teeth. He dumps the ones in his palm inside, gazing without any specific expression as they scatter and mingle with the rest.

Kuroo Tetsurō is dead. Daichi should feel elated, or at least like he can breathe a little easier, but he can’t. There’s a little stab of pain on his palm and he looks down, mouth curling into a mirthless grin once he realizes that the canine tooth must have pricked him. 

He watches a bead of blood swell up and run down the cracks in his hand, streaking the calloused surface as it goes.

It doesn’t make him feel anything. He likes it that way.


	4. The Rat King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated in so long, I've been absolutely swamped with work and life in general that it's kinda been difficult for me to just sit down and write. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter, as it gives us a little bit of insight into the type of character that I'm making Suga into. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> xoxo sabby

Sugawara doesn’t remember much from his childhood, and what he does remember isn’t pleasant. 

He can recall with perfect clarity the boom of his father’s voice and the crunching of his nose under the man’s knuckles. If he focuses enough he can remember the sting of a palm against his cheek and the rasping sob of his mother’s promises that she would _never, ever do that to him again_ , even though he was smart enough to know that the same thing would happen the next day. The sensation of peeling wallpaper and cockroaches running over his bare feet still remains fresh in his mind, as does the scurrying of vermin behind the walls. 

But there is one memory within all of these that stands out in his mind, soft and somewhat comforting to him. It gleams when he reaches for it like the mother of pearl inside an oyster, contrasting with the gritty and grey of his other memories.

It’s one where he’s only seven years old, spending time in the dirty basement at home. He can hear his mother in the kitchen, pots and pans clanging against each other as she hums along with a song playing on the radio, and the open door between the levels throws light into many of the nooks and crannies that Suga should be afraid to explore but isn’t. 

That’s where he finds it. At first he’s sure that it’s a pile of lint or maybe a monster made of the mold that grows in between the bricks in the wall, but there’s a stench to it that he’s never been exposed to before, and that draws him closer and closer to it until he’s crouching down onto the concrete floor. His eyes are wide and he doesn’t even bother to breathe, partially because the odor is so foul that he isn’t sure if he can stomach it and partially because he’s so taken in this moment, so completely blown away by his first experience with death that he isn’t sure if breathing will ruin the moment. 

It’s a tangle of rats. Their tails are woven together, dulled from a healthy pink to grey by the grime of the cellar, topped with a light coating of dust that almost makes them look soft. There’s six of them there, bodies distorted in bloated in a way that only death can create, and Sugawara remembers very clearly wanting to reach out and touch them, wondering what it would be like to hold the distended corpses in his hands, run his fingers over the balding spots in their fur and squeeze them until they popped. Wondering how it would feel to crush their intestines against his palm, to feel their brittle bones bend and snap with just one forceful movement, to see their lifeless eyes budge and pop from their skulls. He sits there for what feels like hours, watching with a dazed expression and fighting the urge to reach out and touch them, because he is still at the age where death seems only temporary and he’s afraid that one might come back to life and bite at his finger. 

He sits there for so long, in fact, that another rat ambles over to the tangle and pauses. This one, while alive, looks much more dead than the others do; its ears are torn and its skin moves against its bones like it hasn’t eaten for weeks. Sugawara holds his breath again because he wonders, immediately, if this rat will eat the others. If it will succumb to hunger and devour its brethren. If it will start with their distended stomachs, uncaring that it has an audience. And even though Sugawara Kōshi is only seven and death is only temporary to him, this idea still excites him much more than it should. 

He never finds the answer to this question, though, because his mother choses that moment to thunder down the stairs, sending the live rat bolting for the nearest dark spot. Her voice is already raised and he doesn’t have to turn to already feel the stinging sensation of a hand against his skin. But he does anyways because she is his mother and this is how she shows him that she cares, how she displays her worry for him. 

And later, when she’s calmed down and apologizing for the swelling of his cheek, she’ll tell him about the rats. She’ll say that rats often find themselves like that; with their tails tangled impossibly tight together. She says they’re forced to live out their days like that, as one horrible moving creature. They’re called a rat king, and the name sticks with him from there on out. 

He remembers asking her how they break apart and the look she gave him when he voiced his question, like she wasn’t sure if she should entertain this idea or not. She must decide against it, because she gives him the truth. 

“They don’t,” she says, “rat kings always die together.” 

__

“We need to strike Seijō quickly and efficiently. I don’t want to involve other parties if we don’t need to.” 

There used to be a time when Kageyama spoke that the other members of the family would look around, as if to question one another why this man was instructing them rather than Daichi or Sugawara. Now, though, they all nod sagely. He’s been with them long enough for them to know that he’s the new brains behind this entire operation, in a way that Sugawara can never hope to be. If any of them would look long enough, they would see that written clearly on his face. None of them, however, spare a second glance to the underboss when Kageyama speaks. 

“Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, you mean.” Nishinoya says, his arms folded on the grand dining table and his voice betraying how much he would rather be asleep right now. Sugawara might have berated him for it had Daichi been upstairs with them, but at this point he doesn’t really care. 

“Exactly.” You look over at Kageyama with an amused expression, almost like you want to nudge him in the side for being so unwilling to accept help. “Despite the fact that we might, y’know, need it.” 

“Tsukishima isn’t known for being the easiest to work with. I’d prefer if we kept this a family affair.” Kageyama grunts back, though his tone is much less abrasive than it would be if anybody else had said what you did. 

“Yamaguchi, though. That’s someone we could count on.” Tanaka pipes up, but Nishinoya scoffs. 

“They’re a package deal. We’d have more luck trying to resurrect old Ukai than we would separating the two of them.” He notes, and while Tanaka frowns at him, he can’t help but incline his head in agreement. 

“What about that friend of yours? The one who made all those snuff films on the side?” You ask Tanaka. 

“Ennoshita? He and his boys are long dead. Decapitated, I heard, for trying to gang up on one of the Eagles.”

“Serves them right.” Sugawara mutters, and his heart soars at the somewhat humored expression you shoot him. 

“We could always reach out to that ex-girlfriend of yours, Noya—”

“We’re keeping Kiyoko out of this.” Nishinoya cuts him off with a tone that doesn’t leave room for argument. Sugawara admires his tenacity, despite being the smallest of the group, because it hasn’t wavered a single bit in all the years he’s known him. 

“None of this matters, anyway!” Kageyama snaps, drawing every set of eyes back to him as he lays his hand on the table. “I just said I wanted to keep this in the family, alright? What part of that is too hard for you dumbasses to understand?” 

“Are you still trying to prove to Iwaizumi that you’re stronger than Oikawa was?” Sugawara barely hears you, due to the fact that your comment was made for Kageyama alone, but the trill to your voice almost freezes the blood in your veins. Kageyama shoots you an ugly look but you simply smile in return, knowing full well that you can say these things and get away with them. 

Slowly— almost imperceptibly— Suga watches as one of your arms curls around Kageyama’s waist and grabs the hand that remains under the table. It sends a sickening sensation through him, as all signs of affection that you share with the hitman do, but this time it’s a little bit different. He looks at your arm, really _looks_ at it, and all he can see is a rat’s tail, tangled with another.


	5. Protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just tossing out a quick update before my thanksgiving break. I've had this chapter saved for a while, I just needed to edit it! Hope you guys enjoy the latest installment, and hope you have a great thanksgiving (if you celebrate it, that is)!
> 
> xoxo Sabby

The smell of blood has never really overwhelmed Sugawara. Not since childhood. 

“You sure you killed them?” He remarks dryly, amber eyes scanning over the splatters on the wall. There’s chunks in there, too; Hinata is the only guy he knows who stabs viciously enough through the skull to pull out brain matter. 

“Duh! Are you blind?” The sarcasm flies right over Hinata’s head. Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe he’s not in the mood to entertain any sort of humor today. Nishinoya seems to be, though, because he lets out a chortle. 

“Man. This is gonna be a bitch to clean up.” He chirps, hands in his pockets as he nudges a bloated corpse in the chest with the toe of his boot. Dark, close-cropped hair. Tanned skin. Kai, Sugawara thinks his name was. It’s funny to him, that the dead still have names. That they still have stories. They’re just husks, ones that litter the house Hinata stayed in during his mission. They had families, they had friends. They had lovers. 

“Yeah. Good thing I’m not the one cleaning tonight.” Sugawara pats the bag hanging from his shoulder. 

Nishinoya lets out another laugh, though this one is much less jovial and much more forced. “Right.” 

Silence lapses over the three of them for a moment, until Sugawara turns to regard them with a raised brow. He gets a certain rush from seeing the two other men look up at him, waiting for his next words. 

“Are you two staying for this?”

“I just ate.” Hinata says, and though it isn’t a joke Sugawara laughs, because theres a certain note of naivety in it that he just finds a little too charming. 

“Then I suggest going and finding something to occupy your time while I work. It’ll be a while before I’m done.”

Hinata and Nishinoya share a look before turning in tandem, their shoulders nearly touching. Odd; Nishinoya, an adult man, still seems to be growing. 

Sugawara doesn’t move until he hears the front screen door slam shut and the faint click of Nishinoya’s lighter from outside. He steps over Kai’s body, around another that has mousy brown hair, and through a puddle of blood that he nearly slips in. He grabs the edge of the kitchen island to steady himself, shooting a dry look over his shoulder as if the corpse had purposefully tried to knock him off balance. He needs new tennis shoes; the treads on these ones has been worn down a little too much. 

He takes a deep breath before he continues on his way, grimacing as his journey leads him farther and farther away from the open front windows. The stench of death is a lot heavier here, thick enough that it could choke him. He’s thankful that he doesn’t have to go far to get to his intended target, crumpled against a ratty living room couch like the discarded skin of a snake. 

“Hey there.” He says to no one in particular, allowing his bag to drop onto the couch cushions next to the dead man’s head. He unzips it, snatching up the latex gloves he’d packed and pulling them over his hands with a practiced ease, giving them a sharp snap at the cuffs for good measure. “And who might you be?”

As expected, the corpse does not answer him. He kneels beside it, gently tugging on the mane of dark black hair and pulling the face away from the couch. 

At least, he tries to. He hears a very distinct and very disturbing peeling sound; flesh and exposed muscle sticking to the rough fabric of the cushion, sealed together by the drying of body fluids. He gives another tug, peeling the face away fully, and curses. 

“Hinata really did a number on you.” He scoffs. He stares at what remains of a human face, sliced up and crusted with days-old blood. The sides of his mouth are completely cut open to the top of his cheekbones, tendrils hanging over his exposed teeth like ratty old curtains. One of his eyes is cut nearly in half, a dried-yet-still-shiny liquid dripping from the socket, while the other eye remains shut. The tip of his nose is completely gone, cut nearly to the cartilage, other sections of his skin scraped in perfect fingernail-sized lines. Sugawara can see his dried tongue perfectly, as well as the knot of maggots already nested into it and into the back of his throat. 

He lifts what’s left of the upper lip up and— yes, as expected. Missing a canine tooth. His gums are as equally shredded as his face; its a shock that his teeth are still secured in them. Hinata really was a mess of a man. He couldn’t even extract a tooth without leaving the rest of the mouth a pigsty. 

“You must be Kuroo, then. Nice to meet you.” Sugawara settles onto his knees from his crouch, opening his bag again and grasping the handle of his most beloved weapon. 

“Everything alright?” He can hear Nishinoya’s voice float over from the front porch. 

“Fine.” He calls back, “just getting started.” 

He doesn’t wait for a response; he pulls the meat cleaver out from the bag, appreciating the glimmer of it in the light of the closed window behind him, before he grabs Kuroo Tetsurō’s toes and, with one clean motion, severs his foot from the rest of his leg. 

“And so it begins.” He murmurs to himself, tossing the foot to the side. 

__

“You need to take everyone’s opinion into consideration.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

You slap Kageyama on the shoulder with a playful lightness, but his stony expression doesn’t lighten. 

“That’s no way to treat your significant other, Tobio.” 

He grumbles at you, his fingers tightening around the handle of his mug. Steam from his afternoon cup of coffee rises in tendrils, caressing the bottom of his chin and nose. 

“I want as few people involved with this as possible.” He reminds you, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at your irritable lover. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that. And this is because… why, exactly?”

“You know exactly why.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, a smile curling at the side of your mouth. “You’re trying to protect me.” 

He takes a long gulp of his drink, his eyes not meeting yours over the rim of his mug. 

“Tobio.” You sigh. “You know I love you, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you and I both know I don’t need to be protected.” 

“You say that like I didn’t have to save your life a few days ago.” He nearly slams his mug back onto the table. “And besides, have you considered that I’m trying to minimize how much shit hits the fan here? Not everything is about our relationship.” 

You brush off the sting that his words leave behind. “Planning isn’t your job, Tobio. It’s Daichi’s.” 

You two look at each other for a long, long moment. The glimmer of his eyes enthralls you for a second, before he looks away. 

“I know that.” 

“You can’t control everything.”

“I _know_.”

“And if Daichi decides that he wants outside help, then so be it. Everyone here knows raiding Seijō isn’t a small job, even with the amount of men they’ve lost recently. You being adverse to extra help will just raise suspicions.” 

Kageyama regards you for a second time. His expression falters at your soft smile, and he reaches across the table to cover your hand with his own. The warmth of it immediately comforts you. 

“I just don’t want things to go bad for you. Daichi is suspicious enough as is.” 

You laugh. “So this _was_ about protecting me, then?”

“It’s always been about protecting you.” 

You scoot your chair closer to his, resting your chin on his shoulder and breathing in his scent. 

“I knew it.” 

“Well you don’t have to gloat!” 

“Sorry, sorry.” You press a gentle kiss to the stretch of skin where his neck meets his ear. “But everything is going to be fine, Tobio. I have you, and that’s more than enough.” 

“Don’t kid yourself.” 

“I’m not. Even my brother agreed with me.” You hum, a little pleased when his head turns so he can look at you incredulously. 

“He did?” 

“In his own words, yes.” You say. “Now lets go back upstairs. We’ve got a little while before Sugawara and the boys come back, and I fully intend to take advantage of it.” 

“Tanaka or Saeko could just as easily interrupt us, you know.” 

“Yeah, but they’re not so bad. Sugawara gives me the creeps sometimes.” 

And for reasons unbeknownst to you, that seems to make Kageyama’s spirits lift.


	6. The Bad Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Not much to say for this update except for the fact that we're gearing up to have some serious plot changes. Like I've mentioned before, this series will get a lot darker as time goes on, and this is the first chapter that will start to lead us there. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> xoxo sabby

It’s a normal morning when Tsukishima Kei’s cell phone rings. 

Perhaps afternoon is a better word for it, because when he cracks his eyes open to address the vibrating of the device on his nightstand, the sun is already high in the sky. Yamaguchi is still asleep, though he makes a low sound in his throat when Tsukishima shifts on the mattress. 

“Hello?” He keeps his voice low for the sake of his sleeping lover, though his own tiredness makes his tone thick and groggy. His unoccupied hand searches for his glasses as he blinks exhaustion out of his vision. There’s a brief moment of silence on the other line. 

“Tsukishima?”

“Speaking.” 

“It’s [Name].”

Tsukishima flops down on the bed again, phone still pressed to his ear. 

“Never thought I’d hear your voice again.” He says, fighting back a yawn. Yamaguchi unintentionally presses his bare back against Tsukishima’s arm; he considers curling it around him, before deciding against it. Instead, he rubs his eyes under his glasses. 

“You think I’d stop talking to you after everything you did for me?”

“No, I just thought you’d be dead by now.”

There’s a little bit of a staticky noise that cuts off your scoff, but to Tsukishima it’s still plain as day. 

“You think so highly of me.”

“No, I just don’t underestimate the people that would want to kill you.”

He’s treated to a laugh now. It makes him think about his youth, when the three of you could spend hours in your backyard on the swings and Akiteru—

He swallows the memories down like a bitter pill. “Anyway. What do you need this time?”

“I’m in a bit of a tight situation, here. We need to raid Seijo, and I’m—”

“No.” He snaps the phone shut and waits for a beat. It starts vibrating again. 

“Did you just hang up on me?”

“Yep.”

“Kei.” You snap. You lower your voice; Tsukishima can practically picture you looking around, careful of suspicious third parties. He wonders if you were ballsy enough to call from your base of operations, or if you were smart and went outside to make such a personal request. “Please. I promise I wouldn’t ask you unless I really needed your help.”

“How much are you willing to pay us?”

“I don’t…” You sigh. “I don’t have much money, Kei. I was sort of hoping you’d do this as a favor.”

“Putting my life on the line isn’t much of a favor when you haven’t done anything for me in the first place.” He says, and although he’s aware that his tone is acidic, he doesn’t quite care. A memory of you with flecks of blood on your cheeks surfaces. His grip on the phone tightens. 

“I know, Kei. And I know you’re upset with me for what happened, but don’t you think Akiteru—”

“If you ever say his name again, I’ll put a bullet through _your_ skull as a favor to myself.”

The line goes silent. Tsukishima hears you sigh.

“We’re broke.” You finally whisper. 

“I could’ve told you that. But I’m not doing this for nothing.” 

“Since when did you get so money hungry?”

“Since I learned that taking care of the people I love isn’t free. You’d know that too, if you stopped riding on people’s coattails and actually did things for others.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Don’t act surprised. The only reason you’re even alive to talk to me is because Oikawa and Iwaizumi were always cleaning up after you.”

“You think—”

“[Name], I _know_ that you’d be long dead if you weren’t so lucky with who you associated with. Do you have money for me or are we just wasting time?”

He thinks, for a moment, that you’ve hung up on him. But then he hears you take in a ragged breath and the chance that you might be crying at his words fills him with a sick amount of joy. He wants to hear you vulnerable. He wants to see your face fall. He wants to watch your hands shake and your eyes shine with tears. 

“We’ll give you a cut of whatever we get from Seijo.”

“And how do I know you’ll stick with that? That you aren’t just going to up and leave like you’ve done before?”

“I swear on my own life.” The harshness in your tone is pitiful. _You’re_ pitiful. 

“Fine. When is this happening?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“We’ll negotiate the details before we get there, then. I hope to god this new boss of yourss doesn’t take your shit like Oikawa or Akiteru did.” 

“Kei!” You say. Your tone sounds hoarse and hurt and so wonderfully injured that Tsukishima has to fight back a grin. His hand nonchalantly goes to Yamaguchi’s hair, playing fondly with the ends. “That was so many years ago, Kei, we were just kids—”

“And now we’re adults. And if you don’t keep your end of the bargain, I won’t hesitate to kill you this time.” 

For the second time that day, Tsukishima Kei hangs up on you. You don’t call back. 

“Who was that?” Yamaguchi’s voice is muffled by the pillow on his cheek. Tsukishima places his phone back on his nightstand before turning back to his lover, pulling him close to his body. He savors the feeling of his heartbeat under his fingers. 

“Nobody important.” Tsukishima says. 

__

He finds you sitting on the concrete ledge that they call a back porch, your face in your hands and your shoulders trembling ever so slightly. For a second, he wonders why you’re out here, alone, but then an animalistic sense of protection floods his veins. He slides open the glass door that separates you, shutting it behind him as softly as he can. The click of it settling back into place seems to startle you, because you look over your shoulder with an obscene amount of fear and guilt in your tear-swollen eyes. 

Your shoulders fall when you see who it is, and although he’s relieved to see some of the tension leave your body, questions remain. 

“Sugawara.” You murmur as he walks towards you. He looks down at you and you look up; he can see in your expression that the metaphor of the position isn't quite lost on you. 

“Are you alright?” He asks. He keeps his voice soft lest someone from inside the house become curious and wander out to join you. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie so easily that it almost makes him uncomfortable. As if to convince him, you shoot him a wobbly smile that doesn’t quite read the way you want it to. His own expression slides into a grimace. He shakes his head. 

“Daichi says you’ve been out here for a while.” The truth of his words dawns on you as you take in the fact that Sugawara isn’t in the clothing he left in this morning; he’s in a much nicer outfit, clean and soft-looking. He must have already chucked his clothing in the fireplace to light tonight. However, you can still see the dried blood collected under the crescents of his fingernails. 

“I guess I have been.” You laugh a single, hollow laugh. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You say, a little too forcefully for it to be true. It irritates you just slightly that Sugawara is the only one to have checked on you, despite the fact that he’s probably exhausted after where he went this morning. Tanaka, Saeko, even Kageyama— you know they know you’re out here. And yet you’ve been alone; you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. Things tend to get ambiguous over time here. 

“Are you hungry? Saeko is making dinner for everyone tonight.” He almost wants to crack a smile at your grimace. Saeko is far from the best chef in the family. 

“Not really.”

“Oh?” Sugawara tilts his head to the side as if in deep thought, though in reality he’s weighing his options. There’s a van full of body parts sitting in the garage and a boat in the harbor that he’s set out on more times than he can count. He’s not sure if your mood is due to your lover giving you the cold shoulder (although Tanaka _had_ complained to Nishinoya about the two of you having sex when they arrived home) or something else entirely, but this may be the opportunity to find out. 

“If you’re not hungry and you’re not busy, I could use your company.”

You blink up at him slowly, wiping your stuffy nose with the back of your hand. “Me?”

“Why not? I need someone on the boat with me while I toss parts into the harbor.”

You look at him for a few moments, silent. You’ve never been with him when he disposes of parts; he usually heads out with Tanaka or even Daichi to do the job. And although the shy smile he gives you reminds you of your earlier statement— that the Underboss gives you a bad feeling in the back of your mind— you also think of your lover, of the argument this morning and the phone call you made after letting him fuck you into the mattress. He knew you were out here, and he did nothing about it. He doesn’t want to spend time with you, apparently; is it so bad that you agree to accompany someone who _does_? 

You give Sugawara the most winning smile that you can. “It’s a date, then.” 

And oh, if only you knew what those words had gotten you into.


	7. Dusk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Not too many notes for this chapter; mostly just backstory and the start of a relationship that, as you guys are aware, will not be the healthiest. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this update! We're almost to the middle of the plot already, so it's not too much longer before the first shoe drops. 
> 
> xoxo Sabby

Despite how unsettling his presence may be, Sugawara is the one you feel safest with in the car. 

He doesn’t talk animatedly with his eyes off the road like Hinata. He doesn’t have an awful case of road rage like Kageyama. And he _certainly_ doesn’t try to race everyone at red lights or swerve wildly like Tanaka and Nishinoya. He’s collected, abiding by every local law and chatting easily with you as you shift in the passenger seat, the windows rolled down ever so slightly to dispel the aroma of decomposing body parts. 

“So how was it?” You ask, gesturing to the back of the van where a collection of black bags sits innocently. “Any trouble?”

Sugawara laughs, brushing some of his hair from his forehead. You’re startled at how attracted you are to the way his face lights up now that the two of you are talking one-on-one. “Not so bad, considering it’s the first time in a while that I’ve done it. Maggots are always awful, but there’s nothing I can really do about them.” 

“I can’t believe stuff like that doesn’t make you queasy.” You shudder dramatically. Your eyes feel heavy— as they always do after you cry— but somehow, there’s a light aura to the van that almost makes you want to grin. Sugawara may not be the person you would pick first in terms of company, but at least he doesn’t want to pry into your life like someone else in the family would. 

“Ah, well…” He pauses at a red light to pull a cigarette out from his jacket pocket, fishing out his lighter and holding the flame to the tip. Smoke curls out from his lips in thick wisps, the same color as his hair. “I’ve been doing this for a while, now. I guess things like this don’t bother me as much as they used to.”

“So weird.” You laugh a little. “It’s hard for me to picture you doing this when you were younger. You’ll always be an old man to me.”

He scoffs playfully. “I’m only three years older than you.”

“That’s like, _old_.” 

The two of you share a laugh as he takes a drag. He holds the cigarette out to you, and after a moment, you decline. He shrugs. 

“Actually,” you say, “I didn’t even know you smoked.”

“You know I snort cocaine, but not smoke cigarettes?” He laughs. You laugh too after a moment, scratching the back of your head. 

“Yeah, when you put it like that I… yeah. Stupid.” 

“Not stupid, just innocent. It’s cute.” You bite down on your bottom lip. Is he flirting with you? You should be turning him down if he is, because you’re still with Tobio— but you’re in private, and this won’t go anywhere. Right?

“I’m flattered you think so. Daichi would probably call me an idiot.”

“Daichi doesn’t know shit.” Suga turns left; you shoot him a mildly surprised look as he taps ash out of the crack in the window. 

“How do you think he’d feel if he heard you say that?”

“I used to say it all the time back in the day. I’m sure he’s aware my opinion hasn’t changed.” 

“‘Back in the day’— there you go again! You sound so old!”

He laughs but doesn’t give you a response. You shoot him a lopsided smile. 

“How long have you been in the business, then, if there’s a ‘back in the day’?”

He thinks for a moment. “Thirteen years.”

“Lucky thirteen.” You joke. Then, after a moment of thought, you balk. “You’ve been killing since you were twelve?”

He grins around his cigarette. “Runs in the family.” 

You snap your mouth shut, not exactly sure when it dropped open. “Are you fucking with me?”

He shakes his head. “Wish I was. It was a lot more glamorous back then, too.”

“Wow.” You rub your forehead. “That’s… wow. I never knew.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He shrugs again. Right turn. The harbor isn’t too far now; he flicks his cigarette butt out the window. 

You find it odd, then, that you want to ask. To you, Sugawara has always been more of a background character. You’d never noticed the amused glint in his eyes when he finds something funny, the small dimple in his left cheek that goes so well with the mole below his eye. You try to think of a twelve year old Sugawara, with missing teeth and baby fat still on his face, murdering someone. 

“I’d like to change that.” You say, for reasons even you aren’t aware of. Weren’t you earlier telling Kageyama— telling _yourself_ — that this very man was just a creep? You suppose it’s that feeling of loneliness that gnaws at you whenever you and Kageyama are at odds; you’ll talk to anyone, even a man with a stare that makes goosebumps prickle your skin. 

“You would?” He raises a silver eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

You ignore his last statement. “So you’ve always been with Daichi and the crows, then?”

He tilts his head from side to side slowly as he mulls over his answer, his long fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “Yeah. Daichi and I go way back.”

“No wonder your hair is grey.” You joke. “Mine would be too, if I had to put up with Daichi for as long as you probably have.”

Your joke falls a little flat— you can sense it— but Sugawara, to his credit, doesn’t seem offended. “He didn’t use to be all that bad, actually. People liked him a lot.”

“No shit?” You snort. Sugawara gives you a lopsided smile, but it’s a little pained, like he’s recalling something he doesn’t particularly care to remember. 

“Yeah. He was pretty different not too long ago.” 

“Didn’t have a stick up his ass?”

Sugawara stops at the final red light, then looks over at you. He holds your gaze for a moment that stretches on almost too long. He’s visibly debating over what to say. The light turns green; he turns away and faces the road again. 

“No, he didn’t. He was, uh… he was married, actually.”

You balk. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Hard to imagine, right?” Sugawara shakes his head as if he himself can’t believe it. “They were nice together. Her name was Yui.”

“Was.” You repeat, suddenly a little uncomfortable. “You mean—”

“We were never certain, but he thinks Nekomata had something to do with… what happened. I’m inclined to disagree.” Sugawara’s voice, much like his eyes, takes on a distant quality. You swallow. 

“Oh, man.” You sigh. “I feel like a dick now.”

“Not your fault.” Sugawara lifts a hand as if he’s about to pat your shoulder, then thinks better of it. “You didn’t know. And the fact still stands that Daichi now isn’t the Daichi he used to be. You have every right to dislike him.”

You fidget in your seat. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Love is a funny thing. It changes people.” Sugawara says. His voice is a bit softer than usual, as if he’s not aware that he’s even speaking. 

You blink slowly at him. Tobio’s face flashes in your mind; the stubborn attitude that remained even after the first night he’d confessed his love, the dark glare that he never hesitated to give you when you spoke out against him. Kageyama treated you well, yes, but he himself had never really changed in the duration of your relationship. 

“Not always.” You mutter. You don’t bother to hide the bitterness in your voice. Sugawara lets out a hum that somehow validates you; you shoot him a defeated smile. 

Neither of you speak again until you finally reach the harbor. Sugawara backs into one of the parking spaces reserved for boat owners, and you spot his vessel docked on the calm water. It’s a small fishing boat, a band of black circling around the white body. It’s inconspicuous, yet somehow it takes you by surprise; this is your first time seeing it, and you’re not sure what you expected. Something more menacing looking, perhaps. 

There’s not a single soul out in this part of the harbor tonight, but even if there was they probably would pay Sugawara little mind. He opens one of the back doors of the van, grabbing the top of a bag and hoisting it out with a grunt. 

“Mind giving me a hand?” He asks you, his expression a little sheepish. You nod, unbuckling yourself from the passenger seat and sliding out, closing your door behind you as quietly as possible. His mouth tilts into a fond smirk as he watches you look around. 

“Nobody is going to question us.” 

“You sure?” You grab a bag, eyes widening just a tad when you realize how heavy it is; he must have added something to weigh them down. You make a slightly winded sound as you pull it out. 

“Yeah, I’m positive.” 

The two of you manage, with some struggle on your part, to haul the bags onto his small boat. There’s fewer of them than you imagined, perhaps due to the fact that chopping up bodies minimized the amount of room they’d need in the bags. You don’t care too much for the specifics; this isn’t really your area of expertise. 

“You ready?” Sugawara pats you amicably on the shoulder as he slides into the helm. You double check the bags arranged in the center console before nodding at the underboss, climbing rather ungracefully into the seat next to him. In the orange-y light of dusk, his face looks much softer and relaxed. 

He drives the boat in almost the exact same way he drives his van; with measured precision, his focus occasionally wavering slightly but managing to stay pinned to the task at hand long enough to steer the both of you a good distance away from the docking area. Silence overcomes the two of you once more, dictated by the thrum of the boat’s engine below you. It’s only when the van is a distant white speck and the sun has dipped even lower that Sugawara slows the vessel to a gentle stop, allowing it to rock slightly with the dirty water below. You look over at him again. 

“I have another question for you.” 

“Shoot.” He pulls another cigarette out of his pack and lights it with a fluid ease. He doesn’t seem to want to address the bags yet, instead opting to recline in his seat just a bit. 

“You said you disagree that Nekomata had something to do with whatever happened to Yui.” You run your hands over your thighs, quelling the goosebumps that sprouted over the bare skin. It’s a bit colder out here on the water. 

“I did.” His gaze slides over to you when you don’t continue. “Are you asking me what I think happened?” 

“Yeah,” you say, “I guess I am.” 

“I didn’t take you as a gossip.” He taps ash into the little tray near the wheel of the boat. You can see, even from your seat, a few crumpled butts collected in the dish. You wonder if he comes out here to relax at all, or if they’re leftovers from his last disposal months ago. 

“I guess I am asking something awfully personal.” You backtrack, afraid you’ve gone a little too far. It’d be wise for you to refrain from pissing off a man while stuck with him on a boat. 

Sugawara shoots you a grin that tells you he can hear the trepidation in your voice. “No, you’re fine. We all do cocaine and kill people together, [Name]. I don’t think there’s much that’s too personal.” 

“You’d be surprised.” You say before you can quite stop yourself. He tilts his head at you, pinching the filter of his cigarette between his thumb and index finger as he exhales. You sigh. 

“I mean, with me and a few other people, I feel like there’s just… lines you don’t cross. A certain amount of anonymity that we get to have.” 

To your surprise, Sugawara laughs. You’re afraid he’s mocking you, for a moment, but then he pats your shoulder again with his free hand. 

“You’re right. I always forget.” He laughs again, and for a brief moment you think you see something flicker in his eyes that’s much more deranged than you’re used to; by the time you properly process it, though, it’s gone. 

“Forget?” Your eyebrows knit together. “Forget what?”

“That I’m not the only one with a shitty life.” 

Your expression relaxes. “Oh.” 

“And I guess,” he continues, “it makes sense that you would want to hide that from others.”

“It’s not that I want to _hide_ it, it’s just that—”

“You don’t think there’s a reason for anyone else to know about it.”

You blink once, slowly. “Yeah, actually. That’s a good way to put it.” 

“Well,” he pauses to take a particularly deep drag, “there isn’t. But if you want to talk about it, you can.”

“What are you, a therapist?” 

“I can be, if you need me to be.” He shrugs. “You said you didn’t know much about me earlier. I’d say the same is true in reverse.”

You shift a little. “Why would you want to know about me?”

“I find you particularly interesting.” He admits after a long moment. “You flit in and out without a care in the world. I guess something like that is just bound to catch my eyes.” 

You cross your arms as if to hug yourself against the chill of the coming night. Sugawara must notice, because he shrugs out of his jacket without a single word, handing it over to you. When you don’t reach out to take it, he makes a small tutting noise. 

“Just put it on. I’m not sure Kageyama will be pleased if I bring you back as cold as ice.”

Had you been more familiar with Sugawara’s speech pattern, you might have picked up on the venom that laces his tone when he speaks the name of the younger hitman. Instead, you focus on your own emotions; the lump that forms in your throat, the way your fingers tighten into the fabric of the jacket as you pull it on. 

You chalk Sugawara noticing this up to his observational skills, and not to the special attention that he’s been paying you for months on end. “I doubt he’ll care.” You say dryly. 

“Oh?” Sugawara tosses the cigarette butt into the water. You pat the pockets of his jacket to locate the pack, then pull it out and offer it to him. He gives you a pleased grin, taking it from your hands gently. Your fingers brush, and he shivers a little. 

You assume it’s because he’s cold. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. You shake your head. 

“Not particularly.” 

He pauses to think for a moment as he lights the next cigarette. 

“If you talk to me about that, then I’ll tell you what I think happened to Yui.” 

You stare at Sugawara for a long moment, at a temporary loss for words. It’s not the prospect of learning more about Daichi’s love life that intrigues you, really. It’s the fact that Sugawara cares enough about yours that he’s offering a sort of trade in order to find out more. 

_He cares_. Something in your mind echoes the statement over and over. You cross your arms again. 

“I guess,” you begin, “it’s just hard being with Tobio.” 

Sugawara is silent, inhaling more smoke while his eyes, nearly orange in the dying sunlight, seem to drink you in. You take this as a cue to continue. 

“I love him. I love him a lot. But he’s so temperamental, you know? I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around him, especially with all this Seijō business lately. We’ll be arguing one moment, fucking the next, and then the cycle starts up again the second that he finishes.”

Sugawara nods, prompting you on. You shouldn’t be talking about this, you really shouldn’t, but it feels so _good_ —

“And I’m more than that, you know? I guess I brought it on myself in the first place, seeing as how I sleep with everyone for information, but… that’s not all I am. It’s just me doing what I can do to help the family. And it hurts that even though I know he loves me, Tobio can’t see past that sometimes. He wants me to sit and keep my mouth shut when he jeopardizes everyone’s future with his planning.” You laugh, the sound sharp and bitter in your mouth. “And it’s just not fair. I’m more than a trophy or a hole or a way to relieve frustrations.”

“You are.” Sugawara says, and his voice is so soft that you almost mistake it for the wind. “You’re much more than that. I had no idea that he treated you that way.” 

You miss the way his free hand curls into a fist in his lap, but this time you don’t miss the poison in his voice. 

“Don’t get me wrong, most of the time he’s wonderful. Beyond that, even. But on the occasions he slips up, he just… makes me wonder how things got this way. How I let my life get like this.” You backtrack in an attempt to clear the air; you don’t want Sugawara to get the wrong idea about how Kageyama treats you.

“I think we all wonder that.” Sugawara turns his attention to the horizon, watching the sun as it starts to dip below. You swallow, fiercely aware of the sting in your eyes; you press your wrists against them, wiping away the slips of moisture that sneak out of the corners. He’s pretending not to notice, you can tell. Something in your chest swells at that; something akin to affection, although you’ll come to realize that this particular brand is rooted in something unstable, something horrible. 

In the moment, it feels pure. It feels warm. You give him a watery smile. 

“Your turn.” You say. Your voice is small, and he seems to want to pursue it, but decides at the last moment to drop it. 

“Daichi and Yui got married when they were eighteen. Yui was pregnant, and Daichi wanted to do the right thing.” 

You nod. Sugawara sighs, as if the weight of the memory is already getting to him. It’s several moments before he starts again. 

“He was happy, actually. He was still pretty young and pretty unimportant in the organization. Ukai always preferred his grandson over Daichi, so none of us really expected to have to step up, you know? We all enjoyed the money and the sex and the drugs without worrying about how we were getting them.” 

He drops the finished cigarette overboard and lights yet another. 

“Yui lost the baby around the same time Ukai’s grandson overdosed. Ukai was fine, but Daichi struggled a lot. He wasn’t the same guy. Spent all of his time in his room. We could hear him crying all the time, wailing and punching things. Asahi and I weren’t really sure what to do.”

Asahi. You’ve heard that name before. 

“We were nineteen when Yui got shot. One of the Cats did it in a drive by, Daichi was so certain.” Sugawara inhales sharply through his nose. When he exhales, a wisp of smoke comes out. “Everyone was, really. Nobody hesitated with arranging a retaliation. Daichi was vicious, too. Killed one of the bastards with his bare hands.”

You picture Daichi’s hands, the strong fingers and the way they twitch so impulsively. You think of your own neck beneath them. 

“I was the only one who didn’t buy it. Daichi thought it was because I was scared, but in truth, I think Ukai wanted to mold Daichi. I think he wanted him to get as pissed off at the world as he was, make him more like Keishin, and it worked. I wish they would have let me look at her body; I’m sure there was proof there, a bullet, _something_ —”

“Asahi.” You say. “What did he think?”

“I don’t know.” Sugawara says shortly. “He killed himself not too long afterwards. I think the guilt got to him. I never bothered asking him, but I wish I had.” 

“Oh.” You suck in a breath. 

The sun disappears beyond the horizon, leaving behind streaks of pink light that fade into purple. 

“We should get working, then.” Sugawara points to the bags behind the two of you. “It’s dark enough now.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Neither of you move. 

“You know, I had a whole thing planned. I was going to, uh, pull out an eyeball from one of the bags and say something like, ‘I have my eye on you’. But I think the mood is a little too somber for that.” He admits flatly, scratching his cheek. 

You stare at Sugawara for a moment that nearly cracks your sanity in half. And then you’re laughing like a maniac, the sound echoing across the water as your tilt your head back, cackling and crying and letting out sounds that must sound like a wounded animal. Then he is too, his own amused chortle intertwining with yours in a horrible melody and you’re seized with the sudden urge to pull him close, to claw his shirt and his skin under your hands and force his being to combine with your own, as if that might preserve this moment forever. The two of you, perched on the edge of insanity and glory and all things in between, laughing like everything is alright when the both of you know that it never will be. 

It never has been.


	8. Incisors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope this update is easy to follow; it references a couple things from the first chapter, and it's very implication-heavy towards the end. I apologize in advance if that confuses any of you. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this installment! Fairly soon we'll be reaching the halfway mark of this series, then launching into a timeskip. 
> 
> xoxo sabby

The next morning goes about as well as you expected.

“Have fun last night?” Kageyama asks you. He’s lying flat on his back, his large blue eyes staring up at the ceiling. You wonder if he’s thinking about something, or if he just doesn’t want to look at you. 

“As much fun as a girl can have while dumping body parts in a harbor.” 

Kageyama doesn’t laugh. You reach out and touch his arm. While he doesn’t pull away, his muscles do flinch under your touch. 

“I don’t get it.” He says after a long pause. “You told me you weren’t comfortable around him.”

“I told you he gives me the creeps. Everyone does, Kageyama.”

“Yet you still went out with him.”

“He needed help! What was I supposed to say? Y’know, maybe if you had been so kind as to check on me every once in awhile we could have—”

“So that’s what this is? I’m not giving you enough attention now?” Kageyama moves his entire body away from yours and you immediately feel the coldness of regret settle into your stomach. 

“No, that’s not—”

“I’m doing the most that I can for you.” His voice is pitched low and it’s almost silvery with how knifelike it sounds; you’ve forgotten how horrifying it feels to have that tone directed at you. “But in case you haven’t noticed, there are other things I need to be doing.”

“Like what?” You mean to sound angry, but you don’t. You just sound pitiful. “Planning a raid that you don’t need to take over? I don’t remember you being the Boss, Tobio, so maybe you shouldn’t be controlling things when you can just—”

“Just what, sit and let them happen? In case you don’t remember, you’ve got a hell of a lot to hide from these people, and if it weren’t for me stepping in like I do—”

“Oh, so now I _owe_ you? Last I checked, I never _asked_ you to help me!”

It’s the wrong thing to say and you know it. Kageyama sits up, allowing his legs to dangle over the edge of the bed as the sheets curl around his waist. If it were any other morning, perhaps you would have admired the contours of the muscles in his back or run your fingers against the bumps of his spine. But this isn’t any other morning, and venom simmers in your veins. 

“I know you never asked me. I’m doing it because I love you, [Name], but apparently a sentiment like that means nothing to you.”

“Oh, fuck you!” You’re aware that your voices are rising and that other members of the house may be able to hear your argument reaching its boiling point, but in the moment you don’t care. “You know it means the world to me!”

“Right, like I can believe that!” Kageyama stands suddenly, yanking on the underwear that lay crumpled on the floor, then ripping open one of his dresser drawers to pull out a shirt. “Especially when you go and fuck every man on this side of Tokyo!”

“Tobio!” You snap, “I do that so we can get information, you know—”

He pulls on his shirt with the same viciousness that he did his boxers, then turns to look at you. His scowl is in full force now, but it does very little to intimidate you. 

“And because you _enjoy_ it. I know you don’t think of me when you let other men fuck you.”

“That’s not—”

“Look at me.” He snarls, voice suddenly dipping down an octave. “Look at me and tell me that you think about me. You can’t, can you?”

You feel tears sting in your eyes, hot and blurry. You don’t want to cry, not in front of him. 

“Tobio.” His name is broken on your lips. “Why are you like this? Why do you always get this way just when I think things are going alright?”

“Because things _aren’t_ going alright, you dumbass!” He shouts, turning back to the drawer so that the can pull on pants. Once he fishes a pair out, he slams it shut with enough force to rattle the wall it stands against. You hear Nishinoya make a noise of surprise in the next room. “How delusional are you?”

You make a sound of contempt as you fling the sheets off of your body, not giving a single care in the world that you’re as naked as the day you were born. You march around the bed to face Kageyama as he pulls his pants on. 

“Me? I’m the delusional one? Have you forgotten about all the times you’ve talked to me about getting married, having kids—”

“Because it’s easy to talk about something that will never happen!” He stares down into your eyes and you curse when you immediately blink, releasing hot tears onto your cheeks that you don’t bother to wipe away. His expression flickers for a second and you think he’s about to soften, but then as soon as the kindness is there, it’s gone. 

“Tobio, _why?_ ” You ask again. “Every time I think we’re fine, every time you open up… you get like this again. One day I think we’re great, the next you suddenly act as if I’m the worst person you know!”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” He says. “I don’t have to explain a damn thing. Now _move_.” 

“No.” You say. “Not until you tell me why—”

He shoves past you with enough force to jostle you to the side, marching towards the bedroom door and opening it so hard that it slams into the wall when he lets go. You have only a second to stay frozen before you comprehend the force that he’s used against you. 

“Get back here!” You shriek. He continues on down the hall, in the direction of the stairs. Without a second thought, you grab the nearest object— the alarm clock on his nightstand— and grip it tight in your hand, flying out into the hallway. You don’t consider the fact that you’re still naked as you take the steps downwards, storming into the living room with your expression livid and your nipples hardened in the cool morning air. 

You pay no mind to the fact that Saeko, Tanaka, Daichi, and Sugawara are at the table eating, nor do you care about their simultaneous expressions of mortification at seeing your nude form (save for Daichi, who continues to eat). You keep your eyes trained on the back of Kageyama’s head as he marches towards the door, snatching his keys from the peg on the wall. 

“Where the _fuck_ do you think you’re going?” You screech at him. He doesn’t turn around to face you. He just unlocks the door. 

“Away from you. I’ve had enough.” He says simply. You make an almost animalistic noise of distress as he moves to leave; your arm winds back and you throw the alarm clock straight at him. It misses but just barely, shattering against the doorjamb as Kageyama continues his trek towards the garage. You scream just because you can, a long and painful wail. 

Then you drop to the ground. 

“Christ!” Saeko swears, immediately pushing back her chair and getting to her feet. She grabs the blanket laying on the couch that you’re crumpled next to and tosses it over your bare back as a way to preserve your modesty from the male gazes of the room. You can’t even begin to acknowledge that as you begin to weep, sobs wracking your entire body. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You manage to say between horrible gasps, referencing her shielding of your body. In the distance, the rumble of Kageyama’s blue sedan starting signals his departure. “I’ve apparently fucked everyone here before. Nothing they haven’t s-seen.”

“That’s what this was about?” Saeko sounds appalled. “Really? He’s pissed off about something that hasn’t even happened?”

“Apparently.” Even while crying your heart out, you manage to sound bitter. “Because that’s what matters to him.”

You hear another chair screech and it’s only a couple moments before a new pair of shoes come into your line of sight. They’re walking away from you, though, and you look up to see who—

“Sugawara.” Daichi says. He sounds bored. “Where are you going?”

Sugawara grabs his set of keys from the peg as well. “I’m going to kill him.” He says simply. 

“N-no.” You manage to rasp out before Sugawara can open the door back up. “No. Don’t. I-I’m just—”

Sugawara immediately stills at the sound of you addressing him. 

“If you think you’re overreacting, you’re not. He’s an idiot.” He spits out, his words absolutely toxic. “I’m not letting him get away with treating you like that.”

“Sit down.” Daichi says. “He’ll be back.” 

“Daichi—” Sugawara starts. Through your watery gaze, you can see Daichi raise a hand to silence him. 

“Sit down.” He repeats. “Or I’ll do something that you really don't want me to do.” 

Sugawara doesn’t move. The room is filled with the sound of you crying, high-pitched keening noises gurgling from your throat. 

“Let me do this.” 

“I let you do a lot of things.” Daichi runs a broad hand over his face the way an exhausted parent might. “You’d be smart not to forget that the only reason you’re standing here is because of me.”

“Oh, right. How arrogant of me.” Sugawara spits. “Want me to kiss your ass more, Daichi? Want me to thank you for the _glamor_ that is getting elbow deep into guts and stomach acid? Even though you swore I’d never have to do shit like that ever again, that I was above being the disposal guy?”

Daichi considers Sugawara for a long moment; even you, in the midst of your tears, can feel the heavy weight of his silence. 

It’s broken by the sound of Daichi’s chair screeching as he slides backwards in it, standing without breaking the eye contact between the two of them. Your sobs quiet down just a little into choked gurgles, salty tears landing on the hardwood floor of the living room. You think you see, through the haziness that clouds your vision, something like excitement spark in Tanaka’s eyes as he too takes in the situation, his body slightly hunched over and thrumming with energy the way it always is before he intervenes in a scuffle. It almost makes you want to cry more. 

“Sit down, Kōshi. I won’t ask again.” 

Slowly, as if it pains him to do so, Sugawara allows his keyring to fall back onto the peg. The keys clatter together like chimes, gold and silver and dainty looking. Sugawara swallows hard. 

“I don’t like him. I want him dead.” His voice is soft, as if he and Daichi are alone in their conversation. You feel one of Saeko’s arms wrap around your body and you think she’s going to pull you up, but instead she holds you to her side as if you’re a lost child. You don’t mind the warmth. 

“I don’t care about your opinion, Sugawara.” Daichi drops back into formalities with an ease that unsettles everyone in the room. You hear a faint noise upstairs— likely Nishinoya or Hinata doing something to occupy their time— and you wish more than anything that either of them could come down the stairs and dissipate the tension, break up whatever it is that’s happening between the two men—

“He’s acting like a child.”

“And you’re not?”

Sugawara’s face hardens just a fraction at the accusation. 

“I don’t lose my mind over petty things.”

“That’s because you don’t have a mind to lose anymore.” Daichi points to the seat next to him, suspiciously closer than where Sugawara was originally seated. “ _Sit._ ”

The sound of Sugawara’s feet across the floorboards somehow make the tiny whimpers bubbling from your throat all the more pitiful; he doesn’t meet your eyes as he walks, though you get the feeling that he wants to. A strange part of you wants to reach out to him, to grab his ankle and plead with him to go back out of the door like he’d intended, but you don’t. Your fingers curl against the worn flooring instead. 

Daichi’s impatience bleeds through the moment Sugawara goes to settle into the chair. One of his large hands grabs Sugawara’s shoulder and roughly pushes him down, seating himself as well. You see his fingers curl into what must be the dip before his collarbone; if the grimace that flashes across the Underboss’ face is anything to go by, his grip is nowhere near light. 

“Tanaka.” Daichi says once he’s satisfied, his voice low. “Garage. Fourth peg on the left-side wall. Bring them to me.” 

Something like recognition flickers across Sugawara’s face. Then, it becomes urgently repressed horror. “Daichi—”

“Shut up. You’ve said enough.” 

Sugawara bites his lip. Tanaka, still thrumming with that strange energy that you hate so much, is out of his seat faster than Sugawara was. He walks, you notice, like a man on a mission; his face pinched and thoughtful as he slides out of the back door. It slams behind him, thought you can still hear his footfalls on the stone pathway leading to the garage. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You barely hear Sugawara’s words over the rushing of blood in your ears. You want to stay and process them, but Saeko’s grip on you becomes even firmer. She finally pulls you up, making sure that the blanket is wrapped neatly around your body, before moving to guide you to the stairs. 

“No.” Daichi cuts in, but it takes a moment for the three of you to realize that he isn’t talking to Sugawara. Saeko freezes. 

“I’m taking her back to—”

“She stays.” Daichi says. You and Saeko turn to look at him and he points to the seat across the table from him with his free hand. 

“Me?” You say. Your words come out as if they’ve been rubbed with sandpaper. 

“You’re watching.” 

Bile rises in your throat. “Watching what?”

Tanaka strolls back through the door with a self-satisfied expression; in one hand, he holds up what he retrieved. “These the ones, Daichi-san?”

Daichi looks somewhat humored at the addition of an honorific. “They are.” 

Tanaka puts them on the table, sliding them across so that they come to rest right in front of the Boss. He notices you, then, standing with his sister with the blanket pulled tight around you as if it were a shield. Immediately, his expression contorts into confusion. 

“She’s watching.” Daichi explains again. He makes no move to grab the tool that Tanaka brought to him. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked onto yours. 

The Tanaka siblings, to their credit, seem hesitant about this in the moment immediately following; however, with Sugawara as an example, they don’t seem keen on pushing the issue. 

“I’m sorry.” Saeko whispers to you as she gently ushers you forward. You don’t dare tear your eyes away from Daichi’s as you sit. 

A closer proximity allows you to look at the silver instrument in front of Daichi. It’s a pair of slip-joint pliers, a tool you’ve seen plenty of times before when you used to watch Hinata work on his car over the summer; for a brief second, you wonder what possible use Daichi could have for such a thing. 

Then it dawns on you. 

“Oh god.” You say, suddenly feeling a little sick to your stomach. “Please, no. _Please_ , Daichi, don’t do this.” 

“You don’t get a say in what I do.” Daichi, satisfied now that you’re seated, turns his attention back to Sugawara. 

“He was just defending me!” You say, and you can’t tell if it’s the panic or the desperation that makes your words so pitiful. “Please—”

Sugawara speaks your name once. His voice is quiet, his face turned downwards so that he can avoid looking into the other eyes in the room. “Stop.”

“Sugawara—”

“You think pretty highly of yourself.” Daichi tells you, grabbing the pliers in one hand, opening and closing them slowly with his thumb. “To think that I’m only doing this because he defended you.” 

“He—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about you.” Daichi says, his eyes once more drilling into your own. “I don’t care about who you fuck, I don’t care about your petty drama, and I don’t care about how stupid you are to love someone like Kageyama. You’re expendable. Do you know that?”

Silence swallows the room for a brief moment. 

“Yes.” You murmur. 

“All I care about is that you know that you’ve made things worse ever since you got here.” Daichi gestures to Sugawara with the pliers in his hand; they reflect a little bit in the shine of his eyes. 

You don’t know what his words mean. You’ll wish, later on, that you never found out. 

“And as for you,” Daichi turns his attention back to his second-in-command, “you seem to think that I’ve turned into Ikkei. That I'll let you do whatever you want and you can get away with it.” 

“I never said—”

“You didn’t have to say anything. It’s the way you act.” The pliers snap shut and the sound rings throughout the living room. You wonder what the boys upstairs are doing, if they know what’s going on and they’re just protecting themselves, or if somehow there’s still a shred of blissful ignorance left in this house. 

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t leave if given the chance.” Daichi continues. You swallow, knowing that while the words are directed towards Sugawara, they feel like an attack against you as well. “You act as if this isn’t exactly what you signed up for, as if you don’t have more blood on your hands than I do. Maybe I’ve been too lenient with you, Kōshi, in allowing you to covet things that aren’t yours-- people, ideas. Maybe I've given you the wrong idea and you think I'll turn the other cheek when you make poor decisions. What I said to you a few nights ago was not permission to act like you have some control here.” 

“You haven’t given me the wrong idea.” Sugawara croaks. Daichi’s mouth twitches, as if he wants to smile. 

“Listen to me, though. I sound like a parent. I bet you had this conversation with your father before, haven’t you? Maybe on the night he killed your mother? Were you being taught a lesson then, too?” 

Sugawara sucks in a deep breath. His lips are dry, and his tongue darts out to moisten them. Then, so quiet that you might not have heard it at all:

“Yes.”

Daichi tuts once, a sharp click that almost matches the sound of the pliers. “So be thankful, then, that I’m going easy on you, because I could just as easily take away something of yours. _And_ be thankful that I’m the one administering the punishment here, and not somebody else who has a stake in what you're after. They might not be as forgiving.”

Sugawara’s eyes flicker over to yours so fast that you think maybe you’ve imagined it. Slowly, he nods. Your mind races to compute Daichi’s words but you can't, unable to follow what, again, must be an intimate conversation held in a room full of outsiders. 

“You’re right.” 

“See? That’s the attitude I want.”

Daichi’s hand moves from Sugawara’s shoulder to his chin, grabbing it in his fingers and forcing him to look his way. He brings the pliers up, gently tapping them on his bottom lip. 

“Open wide.” 

Sugawara immediately does as instructed and your fingers curl almost painfully in the blanket, your teeth caging in your bottom lip to keep you from saying anything. It doesn’t prevent the little noise of distress in the back of your throat from seeping out. 

“Left or right?” Daichi asks; however, he shakes his head almost immediately after. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” 

Sugawara’s pupils are dilated, though that’s the only sign on his face that he’s scared. The rest of it lies within his body; the way his hands grip the armrests of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turn white, the way his adam’s apple moves gingerly as he swallows, the tension in the muscles of his neck. You hear him suck in a sharp breath as Daichi closes the tip of the pliers around his top left incisor. 

“Huh.” Daichi muses as he adjusts his grip. Sugawara makes a somewhat strangled sound involuntarily as Daichi slowly begins to rock the pliers back and forth with his tooth clamped between them; his fingers tighten their grip on the chair even more and you can see a certain sort of franticness in his eyes, like he doesn’t want to reveal how much the treatment hurts. 

The siblings behind you seem equal parts horrified and intrigued, Saeko resting her hand on the back of your chair while her brother steps closer, his beady eyes trained on the men before him. 

“Seems like it’ll come right out.” Daichi continues. “Must be all the cigarettes. Those are bad for your teeth, you know.”

Sugawara makes another sound that could be taken for immense pain or agreement. You’re not sure which. 

“Or maybe,” Daichi says with a small bit of amusement in his voice, “it was all that crack you used to smoke. Remember? When we were young and you surrounded yourself with all those prostitutes? I can’t even imagine the shit you got yourself into back then.”

Sugawara’s small noises taper into a soft wail as Daichi applies more force; the boss laughs. 

“Those were the _days_.” He says with a tone of fake sentimentality, his mouth curling into a grin that seems like a shell of something that had once been sunny and bright. The motion of rocking the tooth back and forth becomes a little wider as the socket surrounding the incisor becomes looser around it. You don’t realize that Sugawara is crying until a single tear, heavy and glimmering, falls onto his cheek when he blinks. You’re again seized by the urge to reach out to him, to pull Daichi off of him. But you can’t. 

“This guy was a legend back then!” Daichi snaps, sounding halfway between anger and some demented elation. “Every whore in our part of Tokyo knew who he was. Hell, some of the girls from other wards knew his face. Always had a type, I guess; cheap and easy to come by. Some things don’t change, do they?” 

Daichi’s eyes cut over to you at the last part and you’re so wrapped up in the insult of it that you don’t realize the implication that you’re Sugawara’s _type_ ; at the exact second you meet the gaze of your boss he _pulls_ , yanking out Sugawara’s front tooth as if it were a hangnail. Sugawara’s wail is wild, almost a choked screech. He sounds like a wounded animal, his hands going to his face to cup his mouth as Daichi drops the pliers onto the table with a loud clattering sound. A door upstairs slams and there’s footsteps in the hall. Nishinoya, you assume, who couldn’t stand to ignore the sounds of pain any longer. 

Hinata has always been better at feigning ignorance to the things around him.

Sugawara sobs openly, any semblance of pride or endurance in shreds on the floor around him. His tooth, the root bloody and pink and clinging to clumps of something slightly squishy-looking, skitters out of the now-loose grip of the pliers and towards you. You almost reach out to catch it. 

“Fucking Christ, Daichi!” Nishinoya says as he finishes coming down the stairs. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Pulled his tooth.” Tanaka answers for him. Nishinoya’s mouth presses into a tight line. 

“Get some ice and put it in a plastic bag.” He tells Saeko, who nods numbly. He turns to Ryūnosuke. “Get a dish towel or something. He needs to numb the area.” 

The siblings seem more than willing to take orders from Noya, who shoots Daichi something between an exasperated and irritated look. “Did you really have to do that?”

“I did.” Daichi seems back to normal now, his facade of indifference back on his face. You can’t meet his gaze, his words echoing inside of your head as you stare at the tooth on the table, glistening with saliva and blood. _Cheap and easy to come by._

“He’s going to be in a lot of pain for tonight.” Nishinoya reminds the boss. He runs a hand through his wild hair, a style much too vibrant for the vacant shell that the man is now. 

“That doesn’t matter. He can still fire a gun with a missing tooth.”

Nishinoya tuts as Saeko returns, handing him a bag of ice from the kitchen. He waits for a moment until Ryūnosuke gives him the closest towel he could find, wrapping the two of them together to create a makeshift icepack. You don’t even think twice; you suddenly stand, snatching it from his hands and circling around the table to sit closer to Sugawara. Daichi watches you with mild interest as he himself makes to leave. 

“I’m going to get a few more affairs in order for tonight. If Kageyama returns, tell him that I’d like to have a word with him.” He says to nobody in particular. Everyone but yourself and Sugawara nods. You pull the silver-haired man closer to you and he removes his hand from his mouth. A thin trail of saliva-mixed blood falls over his lip and onto his chin, landing in a muddled and syrupy puddle on the table. You pay it no mind.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. You go to hand him the ice but his hand wraps around yours instead, pulling it forward so that it can hold the pack over the area that needs it most. You use your free hand to adjust the blanket around you. 

One by one, the surrounding members of the family leave the living room. First it’s Daichi, who retires to the basement to do god-knows-what; he pockets Sugawara’s tooth before he goes. Then it’s Ryū and Saeko, who both make the subconscious decision to take off in the direction of their own rooms upstairs. Last is Nishinoya, who stares at the two of you at the table for much longer than you think is necessary. Only when he finally leaves does Sugawara answer you. 

“It’s okay.” He says, voice muffled by the ice. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I—”

“Daichi was looking for an excuse to do that for a very long time.” Sugawara lowers his voice just a tad. His eyes meet yours; he’s still crying just a bit. Tears pool over his waterline as he sniffs. “It’s not on you. Don’t take his words to heart; you’re nothing like he said you were.”

“Sugawara—”

“I’m more worried about what you must think of me.” He says, and with a start you realize that there’s some sort of apology in his voice. For his admission of hatred for your lover, or the personal information Daichi revealed, maybe. You think of Sugawara, younger and surrounded by scantily-clad women. 

Why does that make you feel funny? Is it some sort of twisted jealousy? No, it isn’t. You know it isn’t. But it’s a strange emotion that claws angrily at the chambers of your heart. And then you think of what Daichi mentioned first. 

“Your mother.” You start, before realizing that what you were about to ask was a question beyond mere invasion of privacy. You see something foreign flicker in Sugawara’s gaze. He seems to know exactly what you’re asking, but he doesn’t answer you. You take a deep breath. 

“You deserve better than this.” You say, changing the topic. He stares at you for a long moment, his eyes alone saying more than any words from his injured mouth could. 

The hand resting flat over yours curls around it slightly more, as if in a gesture that’s meant to comfort you more than him. You’re surprised to find that it works. 

“I don’t. I really don’t.” 

“You do, Sugawara. You don’t deserve to feel like this.” You don’t know where this assertion is coming from, where this urge to help and protect this man started. But you can’t help it, not when he moved so fast to defend you before. 

“I never feel bad when I’m with you.” He says. The hand over yours tightens just a little. 

You let it.


	9. The Blood Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! It's been months and months since this series has seen an update, hasn't it? We're just about to the halfway point of the series here, with some major changes happening in the next chapter. Writing this update really inspired me to continue on with this story, so I'm hoping the next one won't take nearly as long. 
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by an anonymous commissioner, so you have them to thank more than me for this story finally moving along!
> 
> Sab xx 
> 
> PS- A special thank-you as always to Zen for beta reading.

Tsukishima Kei arrives at exactly six o’clock in the evening. 

You’ve covered up by then, at least, in an old sweatshirt and some ratty sweatpants that Saeko gave you months ago. Your head feels weighed down by your shower-dampened hair. 

You know you must make a pitiful sight, if Kei’s smirk is anything to go by. 

“Yamaguchi! Tsukishima!” Nishinoya abandons his perch on the armchair in front of the television to trot over to the pair. “Didn’t know you were coming!” 

“Got a call earlier. Figured a raid would be easy shit.” Tsukishima shrugs, allowing the duffle bag on his shoulder to slide to the ground. It lands with a muffled clattering on the wooden floor, and you inadvertently wince before turning away from the two men. Sugawara, who sits on the couch next to you, still has his eyes glued to the evening news. Your mouth settles into a small frown. 

“Yeah? Who called you?” Tanaka pokes his head out from the kitchen. He has hot sauce smeared on his cheek. 

“None of your business.” Tsukishima bends down and unzips his bag. Against your better judgement you crane your neck to see, even though you’re already certain of what’s inside. 

He produces a glass jug, something that you assumed used to hold milk. 

“Two litres napalm,” he slams the jug down onto the mahogany table, hard enough that you’re sure Daichi can hear the noise from downstair, “for the ‘afterparty’. I’m assuming you’ve all got some empty bottles and rags around here somewhere?” 

“Sure do.” Tanaka’s grin looks like it wants to touch both of his eyes. You chance a gaze back over to Sugawara, who still refuses to look at your company. You don’t blame him. 

“Seven hundred and fifty rounds for you,” Tsukishima gestures to Nishinoya, and then to his bag, “and you.”

Tanaka lets out a short laugh. 

“Where’s the boss?” Yamaguchi asks. He has two bags on his arms as well and a black case slung over his back. You already know what will be in all three, but the reveal always somehow leaves you shocked. 

It’s always hard to imagine someone as gentle as Yamaguchi Tadashi being an arms dealer.

“Downstairs, doing god knows what.” Now it’s Saeko’s turn to emerge from the kitchen, shooing her brother back in. “He’s been down there for hours.” 

“Great. Go get him.” Kei says, and although you know Saeko hates being bossed around, she does so with a curt nod. 

Finally, finally, the pair of men turn their attention to Sugawara. 

“Hey, UB. You get first dibs tonight. I’ve got a nine millimeter that I know you’ll like.” 

Sugawara slowly raises the ice pack that he’s had pressed to his mouth for the past hour. It’s all melted now; you’ll have to switch it out again. 

“I’m fine. You don’t need to sell me anything.” 

Tsukishima lets out a low whistle. “Suit yourself. Maybe you’d be as good a shot as Tobio if you had the right gun.” 

Sugawara shoots the younger hitman a sideways glance, but it’s less dirty than it is contemplative. Tsukishima seems unaffected, gesturing for Yamaguchi to drop his two bags. 

It bothers you, this bravado. The Kei you grew up with never spoke as arrogantly, never tried to force such nonchalance. He’d always been confident, yes, and brash, but nothing like this. You’d wonder where the time went, but one look at those familiar amber eyes reminds you:

The time is six feet under, just like Akiteru. 

“We’ve got a bolt-action for your beau, [Name]. He around?” 

“Nah. Stormed out of here couple hours ago. Not sure when he’ll be back,” Nishinoya slides into a seat at the table, eyeing the jug of napalm warily. Despite his eccentricities, Nishinoya has always been set in what sort of weapons he liked to use; molotov cocktails weren’t a favorite of his. 

“Shame. Hope he didn’t get picked up by one of Ushijima’s men.” Tsukishima says in a way much too nonchalant for what he’s implying. Yamaguchi nods, managing to look somewhat more concerned. 

You find yourself twisting in your chair fully to face them again, gripping the top in your sudden worry. “What? What do you mean?” 

“Ah, yeah. I forgot the flock of you never leave this damn place.” Kei replies, though he continues on before you have a chance to prove him wrong, “That Terushima nutcase disemboweled… who was it, again?”

“His name was Goshiki, I think.” Yamaguchi offers. Tsukishima nods and snaps his fingers once in recognition. 

“Yup. That kid. Sent Ushijima the organs one by one through the mail. You’d think the postal service would notice something like that.” 

“What?” Tanaka reappears, this time with a noticeably cleaner face. He’s stuck between looking appalled and excited. 

“Saved the tongue for last. Said it was because the kid ‘talked shit’ or something. Either way, Terushima has a few screws loose and Ushijima has his men all over Tokyo looking for blood. Not sure they’d turn down the opportunity to snag one of you guys while they’re at it; they hardly discriminate anymore.” 

“They wouldn’t.” You hiss before you can stop yourself. Tsukishima’s smirk widens just a little bit more. 

“Alright. Whatever you say,” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “no matter what, we can do this without him. I’ve got the security around Seijō’s warehouse down to a science. We pluck them off at certain increments, and we’re golden.” 

“I could have told you that.” You snort. Kei shrugs. 

“Sure, but you’re no tactical genius. Your power’s between your legs, remember?” 

“Watch it.” This time, it isn’t you that speaks up. Sugawara twists in his seat to give Tsukishima a glare that could freeze lesser men. The gap in his teeth is still an appalling sight to you. 

“Sorry, sorry. Don’t mind me.” Tsukishima fishes something else out of his bag; it looks like a roll of butcher’s paper at first glance. It fact it just might be— with a lightly sketched map on it in pencil. He unrolls it on the table, smoothing it over with his large hands. 

“This is the warehouse. Not sure how much is in it, but it’s the only place you’re good to raid as of right now. Going for Iwaizumi’s throat would be suicide, even if every single one of you tried at once.” 

“We figured out that their guards switch places at differing intervals to deter attacks,” Yamaguchi adds, pointing to one of the ‘x’s on the paper and sliding his finger around the perimeter, “first shift is twenty minutes, then fifteen, then twenty-five, then ten. They’re mostly equipped with pistols, but one of the bastards has an AK-47 with a bayonet. Wouldn’t surprise me if some of the others followed suit, especially after the... Oikawa incident.” 

_Is that what they call it?_ you think to yourself. 

“Hanamaki Takahiro.” 

You hadn’t even realized that your group was entirely wrapped up in the map until Daichi’s voice cuts through the air. He leans on the door jamb leading to the steps, arms crossed and face as impassive as always. He smells very faintly of stale alcohol; you wonder when the last time he washed his clothes was. 

“Huh?” Nishinoya tilts his head. 

“The one with the bayonet. Hanamaki. The guy knows how to use it.” Daichi doesn’t elaborate on his statement, but you can tell by his tone that there’s a story lingering behind his words. You deliberately don’t meet his eyes as he sweeps his gaze across the room, thinking about the last time you saw Hanamaki. 

Before everything with Oikawa. Before you’d been forced to leave.

“This would be easier if you had your hitman here. I know a few locations he could snipe from.” 

“I can do it.” Sugawara speaks up, standing from the couch. Your eyes trail him as he walks to the table, “I’m a good shot.” 

“Not good enough.” Daichi grunts as Saeko brushes past him to seat herself across from Nishinoya. Sugawara side-eyes him, but you don’t blame him for not defending himself after the events of this morning. There’s still a little bit of dried blood collected in the corner of his mouth. 

“We might not have another choice. You ever use a M110?” 

“No,” Sugawara shrugs with one shoulder, “but firearms are sort of my thing.” 

Daichi makes an unusual sound at the statement. 

“This is going to go tits-up, isn’t it?” Yamaguchi sighs.

“Not if I can help it. You guys killed Yahaba the other week, right?” 

You remember very vividly the face Tobio made as he shot him through the head, the struggle you briefly endured to pull the dead man out of you. Tobio giving you his windbreaker to cover your tattered dress. He held your hand on the ride home. 

Had he been upset then? 

“Yeah,” you pipe up, “I met up with him at a hotel. He wouldn’t give me the passcode to their vault. Had to do him in.”

“Then they’ll be on high alert, especially for any sign of you guys.” Yamaguchi leans over the table slightly, pondering Kei’s map. 

“I wonder why they haven’t retaliated against any of you.” The taller of the two adds, but you know his words are for show. His gaze burns a hole in the side of your cheek that makes you shift a little on your feet. You hope his intended meaning isn’t too obvious to the men around you. 

“Because Iwaizumi has better things to do.” Daichi sniffs. 

_He sure as hell does,_ you think bitterly. 

In that moment, headlights streak across the living room wall. Tsukishima finally breaks his pointed look in order to lean forward and peer out the window. You hear the sound of the ancient garage door opening, the machinery creaking and groaning as a familiar blue car pulls in. 

Kei’s mouth curls up in one corner. You hate that expression, hate the _implications_ of his smugness, hate that all you can do is writhe uncomfortably in the palm of his hand and remind yourself over and over that you’re the one who invited him here in the first place. 

“Loverboy’s home.” Tanaka chants out, crossing his arms in a self-satisfied way that makes you wonder if he really took in the events of that morning. Sugawara makes a point of not looking up from the table, instead opting to murmur a question to Yamaguchi, who seems easy enough to engage in conversation. 

“About time.” Daichi says. You glance at him again, this time for longer than before. His jaw is peppered with stubble and his hair lays in an oily mess on top of his head, tangled and tousled the way that hair usually is after being toyed with all day. 

He’s disgusting. 

“Hinata!” He barks over his shoulder, his gaze on the staircase, “get your ass down here!” 

“In a minute!” Comes the too-chipper reply. 

“ _Now_!” Daichi raises his voice a few decibels, but you can still hear the jingling of Tobio’s keys as he walks up the garden path to the back door. Something slams on the second floor and then Hinata is bounding down the stairs at the same time that Kageyama flings the door open. 

“What the fuck’s going on?” He seethes. He looks no worse for wear than he did that morning, but you’re not exactly surprised. Part of you still frantically scans him over, a little anxious at Kei’s previous warning of Ushijima’s bloodthirstiness, but he pushes past you as if he hardly sees you in order to stand toe-to-toe with Tsukishima, who still wears his arrogant expression. “Why is this asshole here?” 

Kei’s eyes flick over to you for a moment, but then meet Tobio’s once more. The look is so fast that you’re not even sure if it really happened. 

“Daichi called me.” He says. 

Quietly, the entire room looks to the boss for confirmation. It’s a bold bluff, one that could make you look bad to not only your (ex?) lover but to Daichi as well. 

To your absolute shock, he nods his head once. 

“About two days ago.”

“But I said—”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what you said.” Daichi retorts cooly as Hinata wriggles slightly next to him. It would also make you smile, had the movement not been paired with an anxious expression. “You’re not the boss; I am. And you’re a damn fool if you think we’re good enough— _you’re_ good enough— to perform a raid without any outside help.” 

Kageyama’s expression ices over even more, if possible. “I know what we’re capable of.” 

“No. You know what we’d be capable of if everyone in this room were like you. But they aren’t— thank god.” 

Had the mood not been so serious, you might have giggled at the subtle insult. 

“So what? We’re going to lose even more money hiring other people to do jobs that we can do fine?” 

“We’re going to be smart. I knew Sugawara had lost his mind a long time ago— didn’t think you would, too.”

Kageyama is silent. You can tell, even just by looking at the back of his head, that he doesn’t appreciate being grouped together with Sugawara. 

“Hinata,” Daichi then continues, “you and Kageyama will be with Yamaguchi. [Name], Sugawara, Tanaka— you’re going with Tsukishima. Saeko, Nishinoya, and I will be together too. We’re going to take different routes to the warehouse to avoid suspicion. Yamaguchi, you set your two up where you think they’ll be most effective.”

“There’s a hill on the east side of the warehouse. If we walk the long way around, we should be able to situate ourselves without attracting attention. I’ll move on to the south.” 

Daichi thinks it over for only a moment. “Good. Tsukishima, what side are you taking?” 

“I’ll be driving in to the north. It’s the area facing the bay; there’s not too much foot traffic, so parking towards the harbor might be our best bet. We’ll head inside once the first three pick off some of the guards.” 

“That’s bold.” Daichi raises an eyebrow. 

“That’s how I like to do things.” 

_No, it isn’t._ You almost want to say. 

“I guess the last of us will follow suit.” Daichi replies. Hinata shoots a grin at Kageyama, one that doesn’t reach his eyes, and nods. 

“Who's in charge of the molotovs?” Tanaka all but purrs. Daichi shoots him a blank look. 

“Whoever the fuck makes them fastest.” 

Nishinoya snorts. “And it won’t be you, with your stupidly fat fingers.” 

“Hey, my fingers aren’t fat!” 

Surprisingly, Sugawara cracks a half-smile at the exchange. You can see part of his tongue through the gap in his smile, and it makes your stomach lurch yet flutter protectively. 

“I still don’t agree with this.” 

“Doesn’t matter if you agree.” Daichi turns back to Kageyama with a tone that almost reminds you of an exasperated parent. 

“Then why am I here? Why are you keeping me around if my opinion matters so little?” Kageyama’s voice rises just a bit in a way that you’ve come to recognize as signalling his distress. You almost feel bad for him, because you know how hard he works to make sure everything he does runs smoothly—

“Where else would you go?” Daichi says. 

Kageyama doesn’t answer. You know he can’t.


End file.
